Category: Being the boss

This is about work from the managing side. Freelancing, entrepreneuring, consulting: having to make the decisions as the person in charge. In charge of your work, in charge of your life — so work-life balance factors in, too.

[en] There is a large chunk of my time that I don't "own" anymore, as it is my employer's, in a way. It's making me reflect on how I did or didn't protect my working time as a freelancer, and how that is indicative of my priorities regarding earning money vs. "social obligations".

Sometimes I get the nagging feeling that everybody (or almost) who used to be a fellow freelance consultant has now drifted into coaching. What is going on here? There seems to be a Ponzi-like dynamic going on, as with all these people giving online courses about how to earn money through your online business. It’s not quite life coaching for life coaches, but sometimes it feels very close: earning money by getting people to give you money so that hopefully they can make money like you’re making money.

Unfortunately, it seems that is where the money is. People are willing to spend money… if it helps their business make more money. And that’s not the kind of gig I want. Am I doomed?

A few weeks back, I wrote a post about the professional turning-point I’m at. What allowed me to write it (and by doing that, become “unstuck” about it) was that in the course of my phone call with Deb, I realised that the situation I was in was not my fault. This freed me of the guilt and shame I was feeling, which allowed me to break my isolation. On a different scale, this is very similar to what I went through regarding childlessness.

So, a few words on how I see this relationship between guilt, shame, and isolation (and grief, too, actually).

I’m sure I’ve talked about this before (but where, oh where): in today’s world, we are in charge of our lives. Overall, I think it is a good thing. What happens to us is our doing. We are not hapless puppets in the hands of God or Destiny.

Some people think they are more powerless than they are. Others feel responsible for things that are out of their reach. For the former, recognising that they are responsible for things and make choices they were blind to can be empowering. For the latter (I count myself among them), it is the opposite: feeling responsible for things you are powerless against is guilt-inducing.

Unhealthy guilt is something else again. This occurs when we establish unreasonably high standards for ourselves with the result that we feel guilty at absolutely understandable failure to maintain these standard. This kind of guilt is rooted in low self-esteem and can also involve a form of distorted self-importance where we assume that anything that happens is our responsibility; it may come down hard on anything perceived as a mistake in our lives and has the added anti-benefit of often applying to other people too, so that we expect too much from family and colleagues as well as ourselves.

Now, “not my fault” does not imply giving up all agency. We remain responsible of our lives — of what we do with what is given to us. I may not be able to make my ovaries any younger, but I could think about whether I want to adopt (I don’t). I can think about how involved I want to get in finding a partner (move? go through a matchmaking agency?) or if I’m actually happy enough on my own to take my chances with the opportunities life (and Tinder) might throw at me. I cannot change the market I work in, but I can work on my sales and marketing skills to make sure I communicate efficiently to my clients what value I can bring them (not my strong suit so far).

Solutions to challenging situations rarely appear spontaneously in the vacuum of isolation. They require interacting with other human beings. Often, the first step out of the isolation shame and guilt bring about is opening up to a friend. And another. And another.

Blogging and Facebook are optional 😉

A word about being “out”, however. When shame and guilt wrap themselves around something, there is often some kind of loss at stake. Even when it is something the do with our professional lives: it can be the loss of a job, of a career, or even of face, in a way, when something we believed in doesn’t work out the way we hoped.

Being rather pessimistic by nature and risk-averse, I love my backup plans. I really like knowing what I’ll do “if something goes wrong”.

No plan B here!Photo by Anita Bora, taken on one of our hikes a couple of years ago.

These last ten years as a self-employed professional are no exception. In the back of my mind I’ve always “known” that, if things go awry:

I have savings I can dip into

I can borrow money

I can always “find a job”

maybe I’ll shack up with somebody who has a stable situation and there won’t be so much pressure on my income anymore.

I have always had the nagging feeling that these backup plans kept me from giving my fullest to the current one, the one I was actually living. Why struggle and work like crazy when it might not be necessary?

Like our modern western world, I like the idea that we are responsible, that the way we lead our life is through choices. We always have a choice. I’ve been brought up to believe that we always choose, even when we think we don’t. I don’t think it was drilled into me on purpose — it just reflects the ambient beliefs of our time. If you say you don’t have a choice, you’re in some ways painting yourself as a hapless victim with less agency than you actually have.

Looking at the future (and present) rather than the past, absence of choice can actually be a good thing. Absence of a plan B. A series of recent discussions brought that to light for me: professionally, there isn’t really a plan B for me. In the long run, I need to stay self-employed (more about this in another post at some point). And so I have to make my business more successful than in the past (not just by wishful thinking, there is a lot of work to be done, actually — more about that in another post).

This might be one reason I like action/thriller movies, in which characters very often have no choice but to do what they are doing. Trying to stay alive or save the world definitely gives one a sense of purpose, something I sometimes feel I am lacking in my life.

There could also be a link to my love of physical activities like skiing, sailing, judo, kitesurfing, and even cycling and driving: when you’re moving or in action, you have to do what you have to do, or you can hurt or even kill yourself. In that moment, there is no backup plan. Come to think of it, that is true of public speaking too, though there is of course no physical danger there.

Semi-overlapping publics remind us that we do not all see quite the same public. This was the “new” thing Twitter brought compared to our old IRC channels. Now it’s trivial, obvious even, to point it out.

Context collapse points to the fact that the natural boundaries in our lives have broken down. I was aware of this going on, and it never really troubled me. On the contrary: I loved (still do) the idea of bringing people from different places together, of the melting-pot, of wrecking the big, artificial and sometimes even harmful boundaries we have erected between our private and professional lives. We are whole people.

I just had a great catch-up call with my old friend Deb Schultz from over the Atlantic. We shared our observations on our professional lives, so similar. I’ve had other conversations with my peers lately, people who have “been around” this “online social stuff” for a long time. I went freelance 10 years ago, and as I already mentioned the “market” has changed dramatically. From medium-sized fish in a small pond, pretty much the only person in my geographical area you could call up to interview about “blogs” or ask to give a talk on the topic, I feel I am now in a really big pond full of fish of all shapes and sizes, thrashing about much more vigorously than I am.

Talking with Deb tonight, I realised how “not alone” I was in my current professional predicament. And here’s what it has to do with context collapse: I feel I have lost the spaces I used to have which were public enough to be useful, and private enough that I might feel comfortable saying “hey guys, time to send me work/clients if you have any leads”.

Facebook is full of everybody, including ex-clients, future clients, even current clients. Peers, family and friends. Context so collapsed it is flat as a pancake. I think I did well online in the early days because I am not as scared of context collapse as most people. I am comfortable talking (and being honest) about a lot of things with a lot of people. My online presence brought me visibility, which brought me a career. Contexts “just collapsed enough”.

But everybody has their limits, and, like many people, I find it hard to talk about the challenges I might face running my business with people who are paying me for said business. Because you want your clients to trust you, and believe in you, because you’re good, right, and if you’re good you cannot be anything but successful. If there is a crack in your success, it can only mean you’re not that good.

It could mean you’re not that good at self-marketing and sales, though. (That’s another — long — post.)

During tonight’s discussion, on the backdrop of other recent conversations with my peers, I realised there really is a whole generation of us early independent social media professionals who are facing similar issues. Our industry has matured, “social media” (or whatever you want to call this online stuff) is in every company and agency. Those who arrived later in this area of expertise are specialised: you have community managers, social media marketers, digital content specialists, etc, etc.

We early birds often have more generalist profiles. I know it’s my case. We’ve touched all this, seen it grow and take shape. And now we wonder where we fit in. Personally, I’ve been wondering for years (on and off) if there was still a market for what I do. Is there a decent business case for “Stephanie Booth freelancer”, or am I just fooling myself?

At this stage, I don’t really have the answer. One answer I do have is that there is definitely still a market for what I’ve been doing for the last 10 years when I reframe it as “digital transformation” or “digital literacy”. I’d known for a long time that describing what I did as “social media” was problematic, because it bundled me up with “marketing”, or had people thinking I was a “community manager” who would “update their Facebook page”. So, it’s been a big relief to find a way to talk about this aspect of my work that feels right.

What I don’t know yet is:

how do I talk about “the rest” of what I do/can do: analysing needs, challenging solutions to make sure they really solve problems, digging to identify real problems, offering solutions, coordinating, planning…?

do I have the “business skills” (sales, marketing) to “make it” as a freelancer when I’m not benefitting from media spotlight or being one of the only fishies in the small pond?

is it time to “reboot” and work as an employee for a few/many years, and if so: client-side, agency, consulting… — and am I “employable”, at 40+, having been freelance for almost my entire career?

The “safe spaces” to talk about these things are not completely gone. We have one-one conversations, if we take the trouble to plan them, like my friend and I did tonight. We have spaces like the Going Solo Slack, where a handful of us chat from time to time. And newsletters. I really believe the context collapse and fragmentation of the major social spaces like Facebook has something to do with what I sense as renewed enthusiasm for a certain type of newsletters.

[en] A rather convoluted article to explain why doing stuff that doesn't seem to "fit" with professional objectives (hanging out on IRC, sharing silly photos on Instagram, blogging, being friendly with people) is actually a worthwhile use of your time, making your network larger and bringing opportunities you may not even have thought about.

As a blogger, I’m used to getting emails telling me about a fascinating infographic or a great new service that I should be eager to tell my readers about. These emails usually get ignored, or in the case of the worst offenders who follow-up aggressively when they get no reply, spammed.

Recently, I have been faced with an annoying new trend: as a coworking space owner, I am starting to receive pitches (sometimes by e-mail, generally by phone) from local start-ups or entrepreneurs who are convinced that their product or service is ideal for the members of eclau.

Honestly, nobody likes being pitched. On the other hand, I am aware that I sometimes contact people to try to interest them in stuff that I’m doing. For example, I have spent a large part of the last two days telling people about a workshop I am holding in Geneva next week, and which is not full yet. Am I being the annoying person pitching them?

Examining the way I phrase things has led me, I think, to pinpoint what is so annoying with these pitches that I’m getting. They assume that what they have to offer is interesting, to me or the members of my coworking space. They’re not asking. It’s pushy. It’s “I’d like to come and show my product” or “this will be of interest to your readers”. Not “what do you think?” or “would this make sense?” or “just in case”.

It feels like the objective is to convince me there is a match. Oh, you know me or my coworking members better than I do? Half the time, to be honest, it’s so far off the mark that it’s clear proper homework has not been done, and that weakens the whole approach. If you have to talk me into something, it’s probably not that great a match, specially if I get the feeling you’re not really listening to me.

It’s hard to find the right balance between pitching too aggressively and staying in the shadows. I get it. How do I try and do it?

I do my homework — or if I can’t, or haven’t, I ask the other person if they think it’s a match.

I try and put myself in the other person’s shoes. What is in it really for them, besides what I would like there to be? I try and forget about my goals and think only of theirs.

I aim to inform rather than sell. Ask questions and listen rather than “talk at”.

If I want to tell the other person about something, and I don’t really expect them to see the point at this stage, I’ll do my best to be upfront about the fact that I’m asking them a favour (their time) to hear me out, instead of trying to pass it off as something that’s in their interest.

Often, I’m asking people I know if they might know people who could be interested in whatever I’m doing. If they are themselves, they’ll certainly tell me, but I’m not assuming they are.

As a general rule, I am generous with my knowledge and time and happy to help people I know out. I do it because it’s in my nature, but it does have the advantage that when I’m asking for something, I’m not (I hope!) coming across as the person who’s always wanting and never giving.

That’s it, off the top of my head. I’m sure I don’t manage to do things “perfectly” all the time, but I do my best to be respectful of other people’s needs and time.

How do you approach this? If you get pitched and it’s not your job to get pitched (you’re not a VC or somebody who relies on pitches), what are the things that put you off, and what advice would you give to approach you?

In the little “in-between” space I’m in right now, I get these relapses. I wonder if I can continue doing what I’ve been doing up to now (hi there, imposter syndrome). I wonder what it is that I’m really good at, or that I really enjoy doing (as work). I try to think of new “products” or “services” and remember that in the past, this has never been a successful way to do things for me. I remember how much energy I put into Going Solo, for an event that was indeed a success for those who took part, but that didn’t earn me any income. And how the year before that, I’d been dreaming up new wonderful things I wanted to do with clients but for which there was no market. (Sorry for all the Markdown in these old posts, by the way, Jetpack’s Markdown is on strike here.)

If I try to think about what I’m already doing with my time, let’s see:

reading (fiction and online stuff)

tinkering with computers (misbehaving, or improving, or helping their humans get along with them)

meeting people and having long conversations on a variety of topics (some personal, some professional)

just “living” (gosh, it takes so much time, specially when you’re alone to do it all: cooking, eating, shopping, dealing with admin, thinking about putting new kitchen in, bills, plants and cats to take care of, car broken down, organising stay at the chalet, walking dogs with neighbours, digital maintenance…)

blogging

trying to figure things out (me, others, the world, the meaning of life, reluctant computers…)

not doing my 2015 accounting, getting my business site back online and updating it, preparing feedback emails for my students (coming, I promise)

One of these long conversations, last week, helped me make another step forwards in understanding where some stuff I was thinking of doing fitted in the global business ecosystem. I mentioned these digital workshops already, didn’t I? Well, I was struggling with their business model. As they are not proper training led by business needs, I couldn’t imagine who would pay for them.

And now the answer is obvious: Human Ressources. More precisely, Compensation & Benefits. Yes, HR’s job is also to keep employees happy to be working for the company, provide attractive benefits, and offer opportunities for development. (If you’re working in HR and cringing, my apologies, as you can see I’m only just discovering this area of business.) It’s falling into place. I can offer packages of 5 or 10 workshops for a set fee, for example. These workshops could also come and complement preexisting workshops in other areas which would benefit from the inclusion of digital topics.

Another area I was thinking of developing a couple of years back was some kind of “digital/productivity mentoring” for managers. It never really took shape, mainly because I was rather quickly too busy to put energy into this idea — but thinking about it again now, I realise it’s probably also a “Human Resources = client” offering.

(If you’re in HR I would love to talk to you and see if these ideas hold water or not. Do get in touch.)

Another interesting idea that came up during this discussion was that what I’ve been calling my “mediation” or “bridge” skills, for lack of better word, could in fact be called “coordination”. It’s close, in any case. I am good at absorbing information, I understand and learn fast, and once that is done, I am good at putting it in words that “external” people can understand. I keep together people with different backgrounds, languages, cultures, in a way. I’m still thinking what this can be useful for, apart from the obvious “coordination” of multi-disciplinary teams and the like. Where is the entrance for this?

So, all these lunches seem to be getting me somewhere. Not quite sure where, though. Six months from now it will look painfully obvious with 20/20 hindsight.

In other news:

I’ve started making sourdough bread. It’s super easy and tastes delicious. I should write a whole post about this.

Remember I spent a lot of time in India struggling with Lightroom and Apple Photos? I need to write a follow-up post on this, but short story: both have sucky duplicate management. At some point I’ll figure the best way to import Photos pics into Lightroom, but it won’t be through Lightroom mobile. Yesterday I played with Photos’s editing capabilities and album sharing, and I feel myself slowly falling for it (most of my photos are taken with my iPhone these days).

I’ve updated all my Google Authentificator codes on my new phone. No way to import or transfer, just had to log into every service, disable two-factor authentification (most of the time), re-enable, scan barcode with new phone. That’s done. I can now wipe the phone and send it back to David, whom I cannot thank enough.

I left here for a while to dig through my Facebook posts, trying to remember if there was other stuff I wanted to share. I’m still not good at taking notes for future blog posts.

During this little escapade, I decided to repost my bridge-tourist-guide-ferryman-hostess post to LinkedIn, Medium, and Facebook. Text is OK, but images suck. Copy-paste to Medium works from WordPress, but Facebook makes me upload the images first and LinkedIn… well, LinkedIn tells me to upload the images but it fails miserably. I’m interested in this little cross-posting experiment.